The Governess's Guide to Marriage

by Liz Tyner

  The pulsating thrusts of his body, gentle yet overwhelming, and his breath against her ear while he told her how much he loved her brought her to completion, turning the relentlessly strong yearnings inside her into a fulfilling tranquillity while he released.

  They lay, still intertwined, side by side, and holding on to each other, trying to get even closer than before.

  * * *

  He lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. ‘I just realised a lie I believed. That I could be happy without you. I can’t.’

  The same knowledge simmered in her. Without him, she would only have half a life, but it would still be giving Dolly and Willie the world she had craved, and they would have memories of their childhood to hold dear the rest of their lives.

  The last words her mother had said to her was that she didn’t want to stay for herself, but for Miranda.

  Miranda had reassured her that she would be fine, then a pang of guilt had sheared her when she’d seen the hurt on her mother’s face.

  She’d tried to take the words back with the truth by telling her mother that her life would never be the same without her, that her mother had truly given her life by rescuing her.

  Her mother had smiled and drifted to sleep, holding Miranda’s hand.

  ‘I know there will be a time when the children will be grown and go off on their own, but now they need me. Everybody deserted me when I was a child. I don’t want them to face the same fate. Their mother died, leaving them. Just as mine did. And, at this age, I can’t risk their father marrying someone who will treat them as my stepmother treated me.’

  She slipped from the bed and observed the man contemplating her.

  ‘You say it is the children.’ He touched the bed where she’d rested. ‘I’d never given it much consideration on how a woman might feel regarding the matter because I’d naturally assumed any woman in my life would be caring for my children.’

  She remembered hearing her stepmother and stepsister talk of a woman who’d missed an event to stay home with a sick child and how meaningless that had been when the lady could have obviously used a chance to be relieved of her duties. After all, there was nothing the mother could do but depress the situation more, and the little one was up and about the next morning and no better for having its mother at hand.

  She wouldn’t have thought anything of it because she’d been sick when she was with the fortune-teller and the woman had left her alone for a day. Miranda had been told not to leave the bed. That evening, the dimming sky had worried her, but before darkness fell, her grandmother had bustled in with food and had the world humming around Miranda in no time.

  She’d expected the same when she’d become ill at her different home. It had felt odd when her new mother had asked if her pillow was comfortable and put a tray beside her bed with a bowl of broth, and returned over and over to check on her.

  She’d pondered on that the rest of the day and decided she’d not tell her mother that she could manage being ill on her own.

  But she didn’t think Willie or Dolly could.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chalgrove searched the dining room when he went in for breakfast. His mother sat, a newspaper beside her and her teacup in her hand. She put down the cup and stirred it, tapping the spoon against the china before placing the utensil at the side.

  A maid put a plate in front of him, with a rasher of bacon, some butter and bread.

  ‘Well, Chal, I guess I should invite Antonia for tea as I loaned Miss Manwaring your coach so she could leave. She left the house this morning.’

  ‘She told me—yesterday.’

  His mother gave one long meaningful blink, as if she knew exactly when Miranda had told him. She probably did.

  ‘You look like you’ve been up all—yesterday.’ She sipped her tea.

  ‘I was.’

  He sat at the table. He’d hoped Miranda would be there. Would be there to tell him she’d changed her mind.

  Deep inside, he wondered if she’d really meant it when she said she was leaving because of the children.

  ‘She’s pleasant enough.’ The Duchess picked up the newspaper she’d been reading.

  ‘As a child, she was abandoned.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Wants to stay with those children. Their blasted father.’

  ‘Mmm.’ His mother sipped from the cup and turned a page. ‘We talked before she left.’

  ‘What about?’

  His mother blinked again, set her cup down and covered a yawn. ‘The weather. Boys. And how they grow up to be bigger boys...um, I mean, men.’ She turned the page again.

  She definitely couldn’t be reading that fast.

  ‘I gave her some motherly advice, wisdom and the loan of a carriage.’ Another blink. ‘Women talk. It’s exactly like men talk about when they’re alone except we talk about nonsensical things like feelings, people and the future. We hardly ever cover how many hands high a horse is or the size of a bosom. Much too important for us to discuss.’

  ‘Your motherly advice is always appreciated.’

  ‘Thank you. Some day it may even be taken.’

  ‘Any advice for me?’

  She didn’t answer, just blinked and kept not reading the newspaper, and he kept not eating his breakfast.

  * * *

  Miranda stood beside the road. Again. The Duchess had been kind enough to loan her the carriage.

  ‘Miss Miranda.’ The shout startled her. Nicky ran out to check on her, a bucket of water sloshing in his hand. ‘I saw a carriage and wanted to make certain everything was fine.’

  Miranda hugged Nicky and he reddened. ‘You only do that to embarrass me.’

  ‘How is Cook?’

  ‘Finer than a frog hair split five ways.’

  ‘I hope you don’t tell her that.’

  ‘As a matter of fact...’ he sat the bucket on the ground ‘...I don’t. That’s what she tells me.’

  ‘I’m back,’ she said.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘It depends on Mr Trevor. I can’t leave the children. I just can’t. And I’m afraid if I return, he might expect me to marry him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry much about hurting him. Although you’d make a fine mother for the children and a good wife for any man. And our employer is of good character as well. You’ve been right under his nose. Of course he’d notice you.’

  ‘That’s not flattering me.’

  ‘You don’t need empty praise. It’s true. We all care for you. Always will.’

  ‘I had to come back. The children. I love them so much.’

  ‘I understand. But you have a right to a life, too. If you’re attached to that duke who came around asking about you, then ponder it. Even if you were a natural mother to the children, they’d grow up and make their own way. They’ll leave as well. It’s nature. Think about that before you choose the children over anything else.’

  ‘You’re the second person who has told me that today. But, I can’t leave them as I was left.’

  ‘’Course not. You’ve been abandoned twice. Turned you right into an evil witch, didn’t it?’ He winked at her. ‘I’d say it ruined your life something terrible being abandoned.’

  ‘It was difficult.’

  ‘You’ve been with Willie the first five years of his life and it won’t be long ’till he’s going off to school. Little fella’s choosing his own path already. And Dolly’s got her mind made up to be a good child.’

  ‘You make me feel unneeded.’

  ‘No. Mr Trevor needs you. For a wife. And you’ll have other children with him.’ His lips straightened. ‘Another Willie running around. Maybe two or three. Throwing eggs.’

  ‘He’s just high-spirited.’

  ‘That he is. And disorderly, boisterous, lively and a hellion...all before
he even has his morning toast. Are you sure Willie’s father should bring more children into the world? I think he should stop while he’s behind.’

  ‘Now, shush.’

  He laughed. ‘A lot of boys start out like Willie, Miss Miranda. He’s a little more noisy than most, but he’s not a bad child. And we owe all his goodness to you.’

  She left Nicky and the stables and found her way to the study.

  Knocking on the door, she opened it after Trevor called out to enter. He waved away his man of affairs and waited for her to speak.

  She took a breath and said, ‘I don’t think I can return. My heart belongs to someone else.’

  He rose. ‘That’s a respectable reason not to come back,’ he said, standing behind his desk. ‘I saw the way Chalgrove gazed at you and saw the way he glowered at me. I realised then I’d made a terrible error. I’d been caught in my grief so long that I’d not noticed what was in front of me.’

  ‘Your wife was a good woman and you do her memory justice.’

  ‘I really will never forget her and I don’t believe anyone else will ever take her exact place in my heart, but you would have made my life whole again. I don’t know what we’ll do without you.’

  ‘I have a former governess, Miss Cuthbert. I’ll contact her, if you think you might be interested in hiring her.’

  ‘I would. And if she is recommended by you, I’m sure she will be a good governess.’

  ‘I was hoping I still might be able to see the children often. To be an aid to Miss Cuthbert. I can’t bear leaving the children, but I know I can’t continue to live here and a new post was offered to me this morning. Caring for an older woman.’

  ‘You’re taking on two jobs?’ he asked.

  ‘Well...’ she laughed ‘...the other is not really paid. It’s room and board and I’m to be a companion to a lady who doesn’t want one. I’m hoping to convince her.’

  The Duchess had already sent a letter of introduction. She had it in her reticule. ‘It’s only three houses over from here and I can be a help to Miss Cuthbert while the children are growing older.

  * * *

  That afternoon, Chalgrove knew his valet would have preferred tying the cravat with a knot strong enough to choke him. He could see it in the man’s jaw and fluttering fingertips.

  ‘You may have the rest of the day off,’ Chalgrove told the man in atonement for the bear he’d been when he’d woken up after an hour’s sleep.

  Instead of a properly subservient display of gratitude, the valet huffed out a tortured agreement.

  ‘I’ve had a rough morning,’ Chalgrove spoke. ‘It took me hours to get my mother to tell me what she and Miss Manwaring had spoken of.’

  ‘The Duchess so enjoys the back and forth. Exemplary of you to provide challenges for her.’

  Chalgrove lifted the hat that had been returned. If he were going to describe the hat, he would have compared the texture of the wool similar to what he might guess a rodent’s fur might feel like and the colour...perhaps similar to the inside of said rodent’s stomach on an ill day when it had been eating pale egg yolks.

  He flexed the brim, trying to push it back into shape.

  Wheaton’s eyes widened, before he slid back into his role. If Chalgrove hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have caught the movement.

  ‘What do you think of my hat?’ he asked.

  ‘An incredible example of creative craftsmanship on the shape. And a particularly inventive colour. The brim is unlike any I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Do you like it?’

  ‘Only you could make such headwear show to its best.’

  ‘I’m pleased you like it.’

  ‘I am a great admirer of your fashion choices.’

  ‘And you always tell me the truth.’

  ‘If you listen closely, I do. Sometimes, I suppose you must listen very closely.’

  Chalgrove tapped the hat. ‘I have been thinking of ordering one for you.’

  ‘It would certainly please me for you to take my tastes into consideration, sir, but not a hat like that in this lifetime. Perhaps the next. Yes, the next, depending on which direction I might take after life. If it is not the preferred course, that hat will be suitable to wear.’

  Chalgrove took the hat, held up an index finger and spun the felt. ‘This is even uglier than the last one, I’d say.’

  ‘I’d agree.’

  He tossed it to the valet. ‘Don’t let anything happen to it.’

  The valet held it dangling between two fingers. ‘I will happily save it for you. In fact, you could be buried in it, should you pass on before I. You would have no worry of the fiery fiend accepting you as he would not want that hat to disgrace his premises.’ He clucked his tongue. ‘I don’t know how the angels would react, but the task of convincing them it is fashionable would be your burden and you seem adept at it.’

  ‘It’s useful. It’s almost as if I can read palms. When I have the hat on and ask someone if they like it, I can tell if they are telling the truth. If they smile and say it is a fine hat, generally I know them to be a liar. Some are good liars. Some fair. Doesn’t work with close friends as much, but that’s why they’re close friends. Close friends would ask me what had happened to the poor horse that had caused him to become so ill to leave such residue behind, but it was indeed kind of me to wear his waste on my head as a memento...only they never say it in those exact words.’

  ‘You should value those friends.’

  ‘I do.’

  Chalgrove spoke to the valet. ‘My father wasn’t as foxed as he seemed. He pretended to be drunk to hide how much the apoplexy affected him, didn’t he?’

  ‘He demanded that the decanters around him never be filled completely and he never regained as much of his strength as he pretended. He insisted he was a duke and for him to admit what he perceived as weakness hurt him terribly. Yet he was the strongest man I knew.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Nothing to tell. Your father was as he was. If he preferred you to think he was foxed, then I was not going to contradict him. He was my employer. A good one.’

  ‘You can contradict me.’

  ‘No, I can’t.’ He smiled.

  Chalgrove glared at him.

  ‘Perhaps, Your Lordship, it is much better for the both of us if I am agreeable. And that hat is as fine as any residue I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Thank you. I believe I’m going courting. Would you select a suitable hat?’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace. I will keep that one safe here for you and I will choose a different one.’

  * * *

  Mrs Miles had read the letter three times, then she’d folded the letter, unfolded it, smiled at Miranda and said, ‘Of course you may live here.’ She dotted her handkerchief to her eyes. ‘So sad. You growing up motherless, and those little children close by here without a mother and you not in love with their father.’

  A knock sounded at the door, even as a crack of thunder faded into the distance.

  Mrs Miles folded her handkerchief this time into a square shape. ‘I’m not expecting anyone. For me.’ She sighed, but her eyes were shining. ‘As your first duty, would you see who the housekeeper is letting in?’

  After Miranda moved to the top of the staircase, she saw Chalgrove stepping inside.

  Even with the cloudy day behind him, he created a light within her.

  ‘Miranda.’ He removed his hat, a few drops of water dripping from it.

  ‘I thought I should let you know. Mother believes she has the perfect potential daughter-in-law.’

  ‘I suspected she had. Antonia.’

  Chalgrove crumpled the brim of the hat in his hand. ‘That was only the distraction, while she positioned her selection where she wanted her.’

  Miranda didn’t move.

  ‘In
my aunt’s house.’

  The voice of Mrs Miles interrupted them as she stepped behind Miranda. ‘Oh, my, it’s Chal. Well, this is a surprise.’

  ‘I would like to speak privately with Miss Manwaring, if you don’t mind, Aunt?’

  ‘Of course. Of course. Of course.’ His aunt practically sang the words. ‘Miranda, why don’t you take the Duke to the sitting room? I believe I will have a lie down in my room. This is indeed serious if he has his father’s hat.’

  After Mrs Miles left, Miranda reached out, running her fingers over the damp brim and his knuckles, before pulling her hand back. ‘I thought—I hoped—it might be you. At the door.’

  One side of his lips turned upwards. ‘I couldn’t put it off any longer. I have to ask. Will you marry me?’

  ‘Would you mind if I continued to live here?’ she asked.

  ‘Not at all. I own the house.’

  ‘Then, yes, of course, I’ll marry you.’ She jumped forward, throwing herself into his arms, and he took a step back, bracing himself to catch her and swing her around.

  He laughed and hugged her tightly, the droplets of water on his coat reminding her of the first time he’d held her close, when he’d pulled her through the roof.

  ‘This is your house?’

  ‘Yes. But I think of it as my aunt’s. And I would have to have her agreement before I moved into it.’

  ‘You have it,’ a shrill voice called from above, startling Miranda.

  He took her hand and pulled her outside the house. He held his hat over her head, letting it drop around her ears, and it shielded her face from the light rain.

  He spoke softly as the breeze surrounded them, leaving a fine mist on their clothes.

  ‘I told myself I’d never trust my feelings again,’ he said, ‘and I realised I’m not. I’m trusting what I see. I see a woman who chose not to be damaged by the faults of others. You don’t care that the people who tossed you aside aren’t perfect, you only want your life for yourself. You put the children’s needs first.’

  Before she could answer, a creak sounded. Chalgrove’s eyes darted up and she realised a window had opened above them.